


Dogbreath

by Creatortan



Series: Bloodmarch Werewolf AU [1]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Dogs, ERNEST LOVES DOGS, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Underage Drinking (mentioned), Werewolf AU, and even if those wolves are his best friend, awkward boys, ernest is awkward around damien ahsdjfkg, even if they tease each other, even if theyre wolves, its very annoying, ive gotten better at writing them all!!, lucien has an aunt whos a practicing witch, lucien knows it'll fluster ernest, lucien still has dog allergies, nudity lol, oh yea i mention an oc, profuse swearing bc theyre teenagers, these boys trust each other ;;o;;, theyre not as severe but, werewolf!damien, werewolf!lucien, wolf!lucien, you can find more info abt my au on my blog!! i'll link to it in the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 18:24:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11834439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creatortan/pseuds/Creatortan
Summary: Robert wants to expose Damien as the werewolf he (really) is--so he asked him out on a date to do it. Damien, obviously, does not want his secret to get out, for his own safety and the safety of his also-a-werewolf son. So he enlists Lucien to help him prevent Robert from doing anything during the date.Lucien agrees, but not without help from his best friend. He just has to tell Ernest he's a werewolf first.It goes better than expected, somehow.





	Dogbreath

**Author's Note:**

> this is just a little drabble for my werewolf au !! plus another lucien/ernest fic bc the other one i wrote got so much love!! i love you guys thank you so much ;;o;;  
> here's a link to my werewolf au tag if you want to check out more stuff for it!!  
> http://queenofthefaces.tumblr.com/tagged/werewolf+au

“So he... _ doesn’t _ know we’re werewolves?” Lucien raised an eyebrow. His father fidgeted in front of him, picking the polish off of his nails.  

“Well...not yet. He is suspicious, however.” 

“Then _why_ exactly do you need me, again?” Lucien tucked his earbuds into his pocket, forcing some disinterested annoyance into his voice. It may have seemed silly, but if it made his dad this nervous then there must be good reason. Not that he’d ever really admit that out loud.

“He is taking me to the theater tomorrow, and I need someone there to ensure nothing goes wrong.”

“He’s taking you on a date to expose you as a werewolf?” Lucien’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t know much about Robert Small, but if that creep hurt his dad in any way, there would be hell to pay. Lucien made a quick mental note of how much spray paint he and Ernest had hidden away.

“It was never specified as a date!” Damien’s face burned as he scrambled to explain. “...but when you put it that way...yes? He is taking me out for that reason, but I am not sure what exactly he is going to try to accomplish that, however.”

“And you want me to tail you guys and stop whatever weird shit he’s planning?”

“Language, Lucien.” Damien sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “But yes, that is essentially what I am asking. Please, Lucien, there is really no one else I can turn to.”

“Right, ‘cause the whole secret thing.” Lucien took his phone from his pocket. “I’ll do it, but I gotta make a call first.”

Damien thanked his son, scribbled down the details of the “not-date”, and left his son’s room with a grateful smile.

Lucien held his phone to his ear, lazily going around his room to shove things he might need into a sling bag. He heard his phone ring a few times before the other end picked up.

“The fuck you want, shitbag.” Ernest was swearing profusely--Hugo must not be home.

“Remember when we got drunk over spring break and I told you I was a werewolf?”

“Um...yes? That was weird as hell. Why are you bringing it up now?”

“I wasn’t lying. I am actually a werewolf.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Lucien smirked, imagining the bewildered look that must be on Ernest’s face.

“...what the fuck, dude.” Ernest’s voice was in quiet disbelief. “You...you better not be fucking with me again, man. What the hell do you mean by ‘werewolf’?” 

“Exactly what I said: me and my dad are werewolves.” Lucien checked his nails, leaning against his wall. “Come over and I’ll prove it.”

“Fuck no,” Ernest muttered, “last time you tried that I got Cask of Amontillado’ed and you fucking  _ livestreamed it.”  _

“My dad is home, I can’t do shit with him here,” Lucien lied. He knew Ernest was curious. Ever since Lucien’s aunt came to visit he’d been a little more believing in the supernatural--Aunt Dahlia was a practicing witch. Ernest had been entranced by her bag of herbs and charmed trinkets. Lucien accidentally saw her give Ernest a small jar--about two inches tall--full of bright blue feathers and tiny purple flowers, and she told him it would give him luck in love. Ernest blushed, thanked her, and shoved it into his pocket. Lucien hadn’t been to Ernest’s house since they got Duchess, but he saw the little blurb of blue on Ernest’s desk in the background of some of the pictures he sent on Snapchat.

“...fine. Let me change first, though.” Ernest mumbled. He hung up quickly. Lucien grinned down at his phone, before smoothing his expression and going downstairs to wait for Ernest. 

“Hey Dad,” Lucien said casually, “I’m gonna tell Ernest.” Damien blinked, coughing a little awkwardly.

“Ah, well, I support you and your decisions, my son, but don’t you think this isn’t the right time?”

“So you don’t want Ernest to help me fuck up your date…?” Lucien was a little confused. He knew Dad wanted to keep the werewolf thing a secret, but…

“Oh! Oh that is what you meant,” Damien jumped, “Well, I would prefer you not to, but if you are sure he won’t tell anyone--he  _ is  _ your best friend, after all.” 

“Yeah, he is.” Lucien grinned softly. They heard the heavy front door creak open.

“I’m here!” Ernest called. “Lucien, where are you?” 

“In here!” Lucien yelled from the sitting room. 

“Now how are you gonna prove this, you--” Ernest froze when he saw Damien. “Oh, hi Mr. Bloodmarch.”

“Hello, Ernest. How are you?”

“Uh, I’m doing okay, I guess. Do you, um, know what’s up with this werewolf thing?” Ernest was always a little awkward around Damien. Probably since Damien was an adult Ernest actually  _ liked  _ and didn’t want to offend. Damien found it charming; Lucien thought it was cute and teased him for it.  

“Oh, yes.” Damien looked bashful. “Well, I believe Lucien had a plan in mind to prove this to you. I know it can seem quite outlandish.”

Lucien motioned for Ernest to sit down. When he did, Damien offered him some tea, which Ernest hesitantly accepted. Lucien took out his piercings and set them on the table. Then he started undressing.

“What the  _ fuck,  _ Lucien!?” Ernest squawked. Ernest hid his face behind his teacup, ears bright red as his eyes stayed firmly on the throw pillow. Damien gently took the teacup from Ernest, not wanting him to spill. Ernest covered his face with his hands, mortified. Lucien, smirking, threw his clothes to the floor at Ernest’s feet, to make sure he saw them. Ernest squeaked when he saw the dark gray boxers. 

“Lucien, I am certain this is quite unnecessary.” Damien was more than a little sympathetic to Ernest.

Instead of a spoken response, there was a quiet, half-hearted barking sound--a little “boof”. Ernest froze, still hidden behind his hands. He couldn’t have heard that right…

Slowly, carefully, Ernest peeked out from behind his hands. Sitting on the floor in front of him was what looked like a sleek silver husky. Ernest gasped. 

“Wha--where did this dog come from?” Ernest’s voice was a little strained from the struggle of not immediately going to pet the dog. It looked...so soft. “I thought dogs weren’t allowed in the house?”

“My dear,” Damien chuckled, “That is not a dog. That’s Lucien.”

“Lucien is a  _ fucking dog??”  _ Ernest’s eyes darted back and forth from the dog to Mr. Bloodmarch. The dog growled, causing Ernest to jump. The dog shuffled up to Ernest’s feet, looking up at him with the most familiar dark eyes.

“Ernest, he is not a dog,” Damien chided lightly, “He is in his wolf-form, at the moment. You see, natural born werewolves have the ability to effortlessly change forms at will. Though all werewolves, natural born or no, are forced to change under the full moon.”

Ernest was barely listening. His hands twitched by his sides as he stared into the dog’s--wolf’s?--eyes. Ernest bit his lip. The wolf laid its head on the couch by Ernest’s leg, huffing quietly. Its eyes closed. It was...right there. The long fur brushed against Ernest’s hand from where it sat anxiously on his thigh. 

Ernest couldn’t take it anymore! With an embarrassing squeal he buried his hands in the thick, silky fur. Ernest’s face broke out into a wide, affectionate smile. He pet the top of the wolf’s head.

“Aw, what a good boy!” Ernest cooed, “You’re such a pretty baby! A pretty, pretty baby! What a cute baby boy! You’re so soft!” Ernest’s hands crooked underneath the wolf’s jaw, and the beast seemed to melt and become more responsive to the pets. 

“Aw, pretty baby! Do you like it when I scratch your belly? You do!! Yes you do! What a good boy! I love you!!” Before he realized what had happened Ernest was sitting on the floor, the wolf’s head in his lap while he leaned over to vigorously rub at its belly. Ernest was shaken out of his dog-petting fervor by some muffled laughter at his side. 

Ernest looked over, hand still petting at the wolf, to see Mr. Bloodmarch still on the couch. The man had a knuckle to his mouth, his eyes almost tearing up with how hard he was holding back his laughter, but his eyes were soft and kind. 

“I haven’t seen Lucien this relaxed in years!” Damien said.

All of a sudden, Ernest remembered what he was here for.

_ “Lucien??”  _ Ernest’s hands flew away from the dog. His face burned bright red at the sudden shock, his heart pounding in his chest at the realization. Oh god. He gave Lucien belly rubs. Oh god.  _ He called Lucien a good boy.  _

The wolf--Lucien--whined when Ernest retracted his hand, the happy glaze in his eyes melting to annoyance. Lucien looked up at Ernest, and with another huff, pushed his head under Ernest’s hand, where it was still hovering midair. With a flushed face, Ernest slowly lowered his hand to press more firmly against Lucien’s jaw. Ernest swallowed thickly, before turning back to Damien.

“So...uh…” Ernest absentmindedly scritched at Lucien’s head. “Why…?”

“Ah, well, it is quite embarrassing. I need your help--yours and Lucien’s--and the only way to explain the situation was, well, this.” Damien reached over to give a few small pats to Lucien’s head. Lucien whined quietly, annoyed. Damien chuckled. He glanced at his watch, eyes widening.  “I’m sure Lucien can explain the rest to you. For now, I must tend to the garden. Have fun boys!”  

Then, Ernest was left with a big, silver wolf--that was apparently his best friend--in his lap.

“So...what now?” Ernest asked awkwardly. 

Lucien rolled his eyes. He gave Ernest’s hand a last nuzzle, before standing and stalking off to behind an armchair. About half a minute later, Lucien,  _ human  _ Lucien, popped up from behind the chair. The chair went up to his chest, so Ernest got an eyeful of his friend’s pale shoulders and collarbone. 

“Can you pass me my clothes, dude?” Lucien said, hand coming up to toss his hair back. Ernest blushed, glancing at the pile of Lucien’s clothes on the floor next to him. Ernest leaned over to reach for them when he was spooked by a loud sneeze.

_ “ACHOO!” _ Lucien sneezed again. “Ah, damn.” He rubbed at his nose. Ernest looked at him quizzically. Lucien sneezed again. He sniffled loudly, and he started rubbing the heels of his wrists into his eyes.

“Wait…” Ernest squinted, “Are you... _ allergic to yourself?” _

Lucien froze, his wide eyes watery and red. He tried to glare at Ernest, but the little sniffle ruined the tone. Ernest burst into laughter. 

“Oh my god--holy fuck dude--” Ernest wheezed between peals of laughter, clutching his stomach. “You, you’re--oh my  _ god _ , this is the best day of my life.”

“Shut the-- _ achoo!-- _ shut the fuck up, Ernest.” 

Ernest’s calmed down, still giggling, and glanced up at Lucien with a sweet kind of fond look on his face he didn’t realize he was making. Lucien was blushing, still periodically wiping at his nose and eyes. He caught Ernest’s gaze and held it.

Ernest stood up, Lucien’s clothes in hand. He trotted over to the armchair Lucien was behind and kneeled on it. He rested his arms over the chair, clothes dangling on Lucien’s side. 

“Let’s go, dogbreath,” Ernest said, still grinning in a way that made Lucien feel fluttery and warm. Lucien smirked, grabbed the clothes, and with his other hand roughly noogied Ernest’s hair, which threw Ernest into another bout of laughter. 

“Dogbreath? I thought I was a pretty baby?” Lucien teased.

“Shut up, you know how I get.” Ernest playfully shoved Lucien’s arm. “At least I’m not allergic to myself. What kinda shit luck is that?”

“The same luck that made Mr. Small get suspicious of my dad in the first place.”

“Wait what?” 

“Oh right. Yeah, that’s why you’re here. C’mon I’ll explain upstairs after I put my pants back on.”

Ernest blushed at the reminder of Lucien’s nudity.

“Whatever, shit-for-brains,” Ernest mumbled, both embarrassed and amused. 

“Yeah, sure thing, fuckmunch.” Lucien replied, just as fond.


End file.
